Authors: Paul Harrison
On the day, there were angry protests inside and outside the
ground. Eddie Gray's name was constantly chanted on the terraces during the game. Afterwards, in the main club car park, groups of Leeds supporters staged further demonstrations, demanding the reinstatement of Eddie Gray and the resignation of chairman Leslie Silver. The demonstrators were eventually moved on by police and club stewards. As a marketing exercise, it was devastating to the overall image of Leeds United as a brand. There was a clear need for calm and positive judgement from the Elland Road hierarchy. To be fair to him, Leslie Silver was doing what he believed to be the right thing but what people objected to was the manner in which it had been handled.
Throughout it all, Eddie Gray was the only one who came out of the situation with any respect. He remained dignified and said not a negative or bad word about the matter or about the individuals involved. The players were sworn to secrecy and were told not to discuss club affairs with the media or in public. It wasn't long before I received a telephone call from Leeds United inviting me, as a freelance journalist and writer, to a press conference at Elland Road. I hoped the resultant press conference was going to be the unveiling of the new manager and I rang Doncaster Rovers in an attempt to find out if Billy had left there. Confusingly, I was told he would call me back.
The drive to Elland Road was eventful. On the radio all the talk was about Billy Bremner and the sacking of Eddie Gray. The anti-Leslie Silver campaign was temporarily forgotten as Billy Bremner mania hit the streets of Leeds and West Yorkshire. As I drew up outside the ground I was forced to park in a street opposite and walk down to the main reception area by the sheer quantity of gathered media. Virtually every country in the world was represented within the gathered press pack. It was bedlam, and more like a rugby scrum commonly seen at Headingley.
Despite my protestations, I was refused access to the press conference, so had to wait for things to calm down. But it gave me time to plan my next course of action. Eventually, after a wait of an hour or so, I managed to get in to see Billy. The media
scrum, through no choice or fault of his, had meant restrictions on most reporters, with one initial group interview session as opposed to one-to-ones. On Billy's authority, I was given a private fifteen-minute interview slot in a separate office. I sat waiting, not knowing what to say. I wanted to hug him and welcome him back, but I knew that could never happen. Behind a closed door, I could hear his unmistakable Scottish accent. He was clearly bubbly and very excited, and once again I became a little nervous. I wondered if everything would be different now he was at a big club. For me, it already was. External access to Billy was severely restricted and he was seemingly surrounded by an army of assistants, each one expertly trained in rebuffing all requests for interviews or contact with the Leeds boss. Unless your name appeared on their list, you were denied access. There was no provision for getting your name onto such a list, and I knew several members of the National Union of Journalists who couldn't get themselves onto the list.
Back in the office I was further deliberating when suddenly the door flew open and in he walked. He was smiling from ear to ear and literally bouncing with joy. He greeted me with the usual ‘Hello there, big man’. He threw his arms wide apart at shoulder height and exclaimed: ‘Can you believe it? I'm back! Billy Bremner has come home!’
Without further ado, he grabbed hold of my arm and walked me through the Elland Road corridors. It took me back to my childhood and the unforgettable day he took me to meet all the players and the great Don Revie. This time we briefly stopped to look at the trophy cabinets: ‘I want those filled with new trophies and awards. A personal ambition has been fulfilled today, and funnily enough it's as though I have never been away. What I want to achieve for this club and its supporters is unadulterated success. We were once a great club but look at us now, back in Division Two and struggling to string two good results together. But do you know what? This is still a bloody great club. The boys [Allan Clarke and Eddie Gray] have done great in their own way and style, and it's now up to me to complete the task they started.
It's going to be f—— hard, but I know that everyone here and on the terraces and in the stand wants me to succeed. I want to do it for all of them, not just me. And before anything is said, as far as I am concerned, Allan and Eddie have an open invite to Elland Road and are very welcome to come to see me any time. They are my pals and you don't ever turn your back on your pals.’
As we walked through some swing doors we arrived at the players’ tunnel. It felt brilliant to be standing there like all those legends and great players that had previously traversed this same route – the tunnel that led out onto the promised land, the pitch. There I stood in the Elland Road players’ tunnel, just me and Billy Bremner. It was sublimely surreal, my emotions got the better of me, and I cried. Billy asked what was wrong, I explained that I had been overwhelmed by the moment, and he laughed. We made our way down the tunnel and out onto the perimeter of the pitch. It was as though he was looking at every seat, every square inch of terracing, dreaming of those glorious days of old when Elland Road would be packed to the rafters. In his mind he was recollecting images of the sea of excited faces that greeted him as a player at each and every home game. It was indeed a homecoming. Billy knew it, and so did I.
It was a privilege to have been present at that precise moment in time, for I honestly believe that it was at that very moment that William John Bremner truly realised he actually was the first-team manager of Leeds United AFC. I wasn't the first to interview him, nor would I be the last that day; however, I think I saw something that others didn't, the sheer pleasure, ecstasy and pride in the fact that he was at the football club he so loved. The fifteen minutes lasted well over an hour and I was pleased, very pleased. It was perhaps the most poignant moment I have ever witnessed in football. Billy Bremner had finally come home and Elland Road stadium would soon be rocking at its seams, with tens of thousands of loyal Leeds supporters celebrating the return of the club's favourite son.
16
After the euphoria of Billy's appointment came the reality of life in football management. Despite a dramatic upturn in the club's fortunes, a place in the 1987 FA Cup semi-finals, losing out to Coventry City in extra time, and a sickening promotion play-off defeat to Charlton Athletic, Leeds and Billy Bremner were left with nothing to show for their positive endeavours.
Through it all Billy had remained defiant:
‘We were so close to promotion and a Wembley Cup final. I feel sad for the players and the supporters, but at the very least, the good name of Leeds United has been highlighted for all the right football reasons, very positive football reasons. We must now all pull together and build on the achievements we have made and use that to our advantage. If the fans get down to Elland Road in their numbers and get behind us they are as a good as a twelfth man to the team.’
The following season it was all over after just six games. Billy Bremner was unceremoniously sacked. A formal statement from the club read:
‘The board felt it was time for a change … I don't think there are many people with as much feeling for this club as Billy … under Billy we came within a whisker of promotion and also reached the semi-final stages of the FA Cup, and we all had hopes of building on those near misses. Unfortunately, we again missed out and we must again find the right man to arouse the “sleeping giant” and take the club back to its rightful place among the game's elite.’
Getting the sack, in anyone's terms, is a devastating matter. The
high-profile position Billy enjoyed at Leeds ensured that his every move came under the closest scrutiny. I was there when he arrived, and sadly, I was there when he left. Both days were emotional in the extreme. Without doubt, the Billy Bremner I saw leaving Leeds United was a distraught man. Once again crowds of journalists and photographers had gathered, like vultures circling their prey, outside the club's main entrance. For me and many others, it was a dreadful scene. Inside Elland Road, Billy puffed away on cigarettes, impatiently pacing up and down and saying his farewells to everyone, including the laundry women, the tearoom staff and the receptionists. Tears flowed everywhere. Then he appeared, stepping out into the club's main car park from the back of the West Stand. Head down and deep in thought, he made his way to his trusted Jaguar that was parked nearby. With a great deal of dignity, as so many of his predecessors had done before him, he walked the journey of the condemned manager. Within moments he was gone, exiting the club car park and turning out onto Elland Road, leaving dozens of despairing fans behind. Many were in tears and once again questions were asked of the people who pulled the strings at Leeds United.
The media, who had hoped to provoke some response from the departing manager, were bitterly disappointed. It was clear that some had wanted to taunt and wind him up in the hope of getting a response. It didn't happen. Billy was an absolute gentleman to the very end of his Leeds United career. As I stood amongst the tear-filled supporters, one consoled another:
‘Billy always did his very best for us, I feel so sorry that it had to end this way. That lot in there [club directors] don't know what they are doing. They are tearing apart, piece by piece, player by player, our wonderful history, and they are turning players and ex-players and supporters against them. Billy knows he will always be welcome back here at Elland Road by us, the fans. We will always love him very dearly.’
Nearby, a reporter who had overheard the comment, added: ‘Billy won't be out of football for long, he needs it and football needs him.’
17
Sure enough, on 3 July 1989, Billy walked back into football management with Doncaster Rovers. I couldn't be there but was pleasantly surprised at his return. A quick phone call to the friendly Rovers staff, and once again I had arranged a meeting with the great man himself. Driving to Doncaster I was again thoughtful. I felt it best not mention his departure from Leeds United. It was still painful for me so it must have been a damn site worse for him. I wondered how the affair might have affected him and whether he would still be as motivated and focused. I parked my car in the Belle Vue car park and meandered into the office area where I was directed out to the pitch area. I wandered down through the player's tunnel, my footsteps echoing, until I emerged out onto the pitch. It looked resplendent, green and lush. In the distance, on the far side of the ground, I saw Billy chatting to the groundsman. His back towards me, he was oblivious of my presence. ‘Mr Bremner,’ I shouted out. He turned to look to see who called him and, on recognising me, waved and smiled: ‘Back for more are you? What do you think of this pitch? I reckon it needs sorting out, don't you?’ This was accompanied by a quick wink – he was evidently winding up the groundsman as the pitch to me looked to be in perfect condition.
Billy was laughing and ushered me to the Rovers dugout where, like before, he lit up a cigarette, and perhaps sensing my unease at what had happened at Leeds, immediately put me at ease:
‘You know, things are okay with me. I have my family, I have
all this and I am happy with my lot. Not many people can say that, can they? It was a bloody awful and bitter blow to me leaving Leeds the way I did, but the club have profited from my departure so it must have been right. The board must have found it a difficult decision to make, but we are all faced with such decisions at some time in our lives, and we do what we think is right at the time.
‘I don't hold any malice towards Leeds United – in fact I don't think anything could make me feel animosity towards the club. As for those who run the football club, well, they know how I feel about them and their actions towards not only me, but Allan and Eddie also. Someone once said that you should never return to the scene of former glories. I don't hold with that – if you feel it's right then go for it. I always gave my all for Leeds United, I don't think I was a bad manager, but circumstances and personalities dictated what I was able to achieve. We very nearly achieved promotion, I think I helped build the platform for future success, and showed football that the Leeds fans are loyal and still behind the team despite the current position. I will forever love Leeds United, but perhaps not in its present form, and with those idiots in charge. I've come back here because this is a good honest club with plenty of potential and the people of Doncaster are enthusiastic about their football club and everything it stands for. It's part of the community and I want to help the people of Doncaster as much as I can. I want the supporters of Doncaster Rovers to feel wanted by the club, its players and officials. Managers and players have become too remote from the general public, particularly at the higher level of the game. This is a people's game and the comradeship between the players and the fans is all-important.’
We chatted about the general state of football and with great foresight he told me: ‘I do believe that there will come a day when football supporters of the future attend games in support of one player who they will follow no matter which team's colours he wears. Obviously, the true supporters will remain devoutly loyal to their individual club. The powers that run the game are
definitely encouraging a certain type of spectator, middle class, almost affluent. When the day comes that the average working man in the street is priced out of watching football then it will be a sad day for football. I can see that happening.
‘Likewise, players cannot be allowed to become bigger than the football clubs themselves or they will have the power and hold clubs to ransom. These things will happen in the future but football, with all its commercial future, needs to keep it as the game of the people and not simply follow the money. Football is facing some difficult times, especially the smaller, lower-profile clubs with smaller catchment areas and lower turnover. The bigger, more prominent clubs will continually chase the honours and the trappings that go with success, forcing lesser clubs to suffer as a consequence of no longer being able to compete.’